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Then a hand, sliding down my belly, almost tickling. No, not there! Do not touch me there! But his hand drifted lower, and a fingertip slid, lightly and mockingly...

"She's already wet," a voice chuckled. "We don't even have to spank her- ******** the gods, she's a virgin!"

That made them all pause, and then there was evil laughter. "Is she now? Get the vibrator. And the sensitivity cream. Good news, slut, you won't need that gag much longer..."

My body was massaged with some sort of cream; I smelled sandalwood, and other scents that I did not recognize. And then the tube was inserted and I was forced to drink more of the watered wine, many swallows of it. My head began to spin, and the massaging and sucking continued, and then a buzzing noise...

I had heard of these, but they were of course forbidden to unmarried women in my land. I had heard them referred to as "little torments", and had never wished to meet one.

Buzzing angrily, it was pressed against my n****e -- painful -- and then slid down my belly -- ticklish -- and then- oh gods-

"It doesn't take long, slut. No, no squirming, then I'll just have to press it more firmly, and that's much worse... let me control how much you feel. No? Have it your way, slut..."

Pillows were forced under my hips, and a chain was wrapped around my waist and hips, and affixed to the legs of the bed. Now I was stretched out, unable to move and almost unable to breathe. And then that vibrating horror was applied against my bud.

I was sobbing in seconds. My helplessness, and the torment of fingers and mouths, and that impossible sensation spreading through me-

"Don't come, slut, no matter what. You only get to have that pleasure for c**k. But don't worry, when that time comes you'll be craving your own rape... but it's not rape if you beg for it, is it, slut."

He ran a finger slowly along my slit. Not entering. Just... brushing...

I screamed in frustrated, animal need.

"Take her gag out."

No please not that, I'd hated it before but now it kept me from begging. Leave it in, leave it in!

I tried to bite down to hold it in, but my breast was slapped and I gasped in shock, and then the gag was gone.

"Vile pigs and do- gods no, stop, stop!"

My will broke. I'd been fighting to hold it back, but I was only flesh, only an ignorant girl and nothing mattered but relieving the need in me, I let go and arched towards-

"No, slut," he said, and moved the vibrator off my bud.

I cried like a baby. Nothing I wanted mattered; these men, these animals without social standing, did as they pleased with me, they were more powerful than I simply because they were male, and it was so wrong, so wrong, but my body wanted them-

The vibrator returned and my tears turned to incoherent pleading, but every time I tried to fight it he became more ruthless, and every time I let go and tried to give in he took it away, and blew gently on my bud. I convulsed in need.

One of the men grabbed my hair, and brought his lips to my ear. He licked, lightly, and began whispering.

"A man's c**k," he said, "becomes hard to penetrate a woman. A woman becomes wet to make that c**k slide in easily. You are soaked, slut. You want c**k. All sluts want c**k. They want it forced into them, over and over and over, they want to squeeze down on it, and the more you learn to love it the less it matters whose c**k it is, in every woman there is a slut who wants only to be used for pleasure, there are dreams you've had when you met yourself as such a slut, and now I tell you that in those dreams you met your future self. c**k after c**k after c**k, orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, and you'll crawl to any man you're told to in the end. You've met Enjine, there are parties for fancy nobles in which it is her job to please them all, can you picture that? Now put red-blonde hair on her, blue eyes instead of green-grey, and smaller nipples, why it's YOU, slut, crawling from hard c**k to hard c**k, begging to be penetrated, two men at once while roughly held in place, over and over and over-"

And then a voice in my other ear, "You're going to lick my c**k, slut. Lick not bite. Remember your brother. And lick not suck. You don't get to suck yet, first you'll learn to acquire the taste-"

He shifted, and pressed it against my mouth, and I knew my sister had done this and that had sickened me, but I could not be sickened now, all I knew was that I was being forced to arch again and again towards an orgasm I could not reach, and my tongue moved, frantically, if I pleased them they'd let me come, oh skies, anything, anything for that, and I licked faster, sobbing, and then he put his hand over his c**k, forcing it hard against my lips, and he rubbed, and it swelled thick and hard, he was going to come, and my tongue danced against it, I'd never made a man come-

He shifted again, and I was splattered, belly and breasts, with his seed. Oh moon the sounds he made! They echoed in my mind, wild, beautiful, dark, hot-

The others chuckled, and stepped back. My body was shuddering, spasming in need, and in that state they took turns coming on me. Each splash made me cry out, but whether in shame or fear or simply slutty hunger I do not know. All my emotions were confused and torn and mixed together.

And then, once knelt down and whispered in my ear. "There's worse to come, slut, in a few hours. I hope I get to watch."

Laughing and panting, they packed up and left me like that. Left me stretched out and in agony and smelling them on me.

The coarsest of men knew everything, my deepest darkest fantasies, they knew fantasies I didn't know I held within me. I wept for my own ignorance, and for an innocence that was dying within me, and a need that grew more animal--like each day.

++

I woke to the realization that my hands were free, and someone was with me, at my feet.

"Don't scream," the voice said, very softly. "Don't talk. Don't try to sit up, you'll be sore. We don't have long, so don't give trouble, princess."

I knew the voice. "Lord T-"

Instantly there was a rough hand over my mouth and a low hiss in my ear. "Do not talk! There are sensors here that are triggered by your voice specifically. We are unobserved but if you speak that ends. Obey me!"

Swiftly he unwrapped chains, and took away the blindfold. The room was dark, lit by starlight from a window, with the light of the core making very dim and vague outlines in the room visible. I remember the myth that the purest of women could see by the light of the galactic core, just as well as if by dawn's light, and even though I knew the myth to be false, I blushed at the darkness in this room.

But from the height of one of the vague outlines, I knew this to be Lord Tir. I shivered. Now what?

He dropped on me something warm and wet and heavy. "Wipe down," he murmured. "You stink of man's pleasure. Quickly!"

He'd called me princess. After the horrible litany of slut... slut... slut.... I almost wept afresh at the return of my title. I cleaned up, and found I ached in every tendon.

"This is chocolate," he said, pressing it against my lips. "You can't have much, after your fast, or you'd be ill- but it will give you some strength."

I burned to ask a thousand questions, but in fact there was only one. Why? I took the two bites of it he offered. It was not of high quality, but it was the moon and stars dissolved in spiced wine, just at that moment.

"Take my hand," he said, so softly I strained to hear. "You must sit up and then stand. It will hurt, but those dance sessions I put into Arj's head should have helped you a little. No sound, even if it's agony."

I learned then that there is one emotion even more powerful than the agony of frustrated desire, and that's a woman's curiosity. I was dizzy with thoughts that I would not let rise to the altitude of hopes, but some broke free of my nets and soared into the sky and became questions. My lips parted and then his hand was over my mouth again; how he could see in this darkness I didn't know. Then his hand moved to my hair, his favorite handle for controlling me, and I took the hint, and forced myself to stand. I don't remember anything hurting like that except the day after my first riding lesson, at age ten.

I took an unsteady step, and whimpered. Immediately he pulled me against him, my back to his chest (or more likely stomach; my head did not reach his shoulders), his hand again over my mouth. He was, I realized, naked to the waist, and I wondered why. It was leather below the waist, old and soft and worn.

"Let me be clear," he said, almost voicelessly. "if they notice you free now, they will likely discover your brother is loose as well. But he has a long walk before he can be anywhere safe. If the alarm goes up now, you will both be found and tortured in front of each other. The still twitching, incoherently raving pair of you will be dragged through the streets by drakkin, to be pissed on and stoned by an angry populace that believes your country started this war. Your dying bodies will then be sunk into the depths of the ocean where no moonlight reaches. There will be no rebirth of either of you. No matter the agony you feel now you must be silent." His other hand wrapped around me and the flat of his palm pressed against my belly. "Steady your breathing. We will be climbing out the window."

My brother, free. For this I could be silent; for this, if need be, I could fly. But I shook my head, against his chest. He lowered his head to my mouth, and I whispered in the softest of tones, "Glassee".

"Not in this room," he whispered back, lips warm against my temple. And then the conversation was over, and he marched me to the window.

In a silent agony I did not feel because of the lightness of my heart, I climbed to the window ledge and my feet found a ladder waiting. Together we got to the ground, outside, with the glory of the core above me, and the moon just in the last seconds of slipping below the horizon.

++

"We can talk quietly now," Lord Tir said. The light was not bright here at night, but it was better than in the room, and I could see he was dressed as a servant. The disguise was not entirely convincing, with his short cropped, oiled hair, but in the darkness it might pass. He picked up a bag that was against the ladder and handed it to me. "Get dressed."

Inside was a short dress of the sort used by slave girls intended for sex, and a wig of shoulder length, jet black hair.

"The wig won't work," I whispered softly. "I need scissors to trim my hair, it's too long to fit under this."

From his pocket he fished out a small knife. "Bunch it in your fists at just over shoulder length." I did and he cut it with a quick, strong slash. Thirty centimeters of gold fell away, and I twisted up the rest and fit it under my wig.

"These are not very effective disguises," he said softly. "If we are stopped, you say nothing. Your voice gives your country away. As a slave you do not raise your eyes, and you settle into the same stance Enjine showed you at court. You might get patted or fondled -- fake a little aroused gasp if that happens. This is not a time for you to be a princess." He handed me a bottle from the bag. "Wash yourself quickly with this; it will hide your scent from trackers. And then we go."

"Hold," I said, as I rubbed the liquid over my feet and legs. It tingled. "That you take risks for me is obvious. But to what point and purpose?"

His eyes grew angry and impatient; it was obvious even in the starlight. "To rescue you from the Prince Arj, princess Alani. It is not a fit fate for you; you do not deserve what he'll do to you. Truthfully few women do, though I admit my heart doesn't bleed for Enjine. My plan is to arrange your escape from the city and out west, to one of the minor kingdoms of Lenz. And your brother if possible. It is risky and you face a real chance of death, but I think you'd rather that than what the Prince plans."

"Why?"

He sighed. "There is not time for this."

"Then we make the time," I said, wincing as I rubbed the tingling fluid over my breasts. "I appreciate your grace to me, but this is reckless and might get you, my brother and I tortured to death. Against that risk you have some hope of reward, or you're a fool - and a fool, however heroic, is a dead man walking. What gain do you make from this?"

"A kiss from your lips at the end."

"Don't patronize me. A man of your stature gets all the kisses he wants, and more, from women more skilled than I. You are not a man that thinks with his shaft."

"You'd be surprised. But very well. There are people in your land who will pay for your safe passage. Why, I don't know. There's no hope your nation can rise again; and a young princess, forgive me, is no rallying point for a resistance movement. They are making a foolish gesture. But they are fools with platinum."

"You have no need of money."

"Again, you'd be surprised. But in truth it's not just the money. My grandfather was born in your land, and he was a good man. The war against you was unjust and unfairly waged. For most of your people, I call it the fortunes of war -- we are stronger, we win, and all your women and gold now belong to us. But for you, princess -- you have spirit and, for your age, a sense of justice and grace. You had no part in the political decisions of your people, and neither did your brother. You do not deserve this fate. To hold the love of your brother against you is a new low for Arj, and I would see him humiliated by this loss if I could. The Raja has other and better sons and if this one falls from influence and grace, we are a better nation for it."

He turned me and rubbed some of the liquid into my back, with his other arm around me, tight under my breasts. It lifted them and I found myself staring down at my body, feeling the nipples harden and the flush of arousal wash over me again. My body was truly learning the ways of sluthood, because if there was ever a time not to respond to a man, this was it.

"Some of your reasons are selfish, and for that reason, I trust them," I said, to cover the tightening I felt in my belly. Strong fingers worked at the base of my neck, and I felt myself melting.

"There is one more, and you might trust it less." He turned me, and placed his hand under my chin and made me look into the darkness of his eyes. "You are beautiful and to see you sullied does not sit well with me. This is not how we used to treat fair women from any land. Honor has meaning to me. So does kindness. But this is enough talk."

He slung the bag over his shoulder, and stepped out. "Follow two steps behind and to the right. Eyes down. Try to walk like Enjine -- " he glanced back at me -- "no, don't. Apparently it takes practice."

I blushed at that.

We left an area of low bushes and small trees, and were now out in the open. This was the royal grounds, and it was laid out wide, with one enormous building -- the palace proper -- behind us, and a series of other buildings which were merely large. The spaces between the buildings were hundreds of feet. Some buildings were lit by electricity, some by gas, some by piped plasma or bioluminescence. There were occasional gas lights dotted along the paths between buildings, but for the most part the grounds were in deep shadow, splashed in places with white, yellow, blue or green light. The paths were mostly poured stone, with some poured metal; the latter were warm to the feet, pleasant on this slightly cool evening.

The faint light played on Lord Tir's skin as he walked. His body was a carved work of art, and I found myself staring, and remembering his powerful, muscular arm under my breasts. My skin tingled again as I remember how it had looked, how it had felt.

I was walking behind him, watching his back muscles flex. He walked fearlessly, even in this circumstance. I wondered what that was like. As a woman, even a princess, I felt some element of fear whenever I was out in public. Even in this circumstance, he felt none. He was tall and strong and armed and male, and I felt the strength of his certainty and calm as I walked in his wake. He had power; I had none.

Other servants walked the grounds, dressed like him, most carrying sacks or tools. I saw two other women, one dressed like me. And some guards, watching with bored disinterest. Even in the dimness and distance, I could feel the other sex slave -- the other woman dressed as a sex slave -- measuring me with her eyes. I felt I compared well, and wished for a moment I could have my blond hair on display. Cutting it had been sad; I was vain about my hair. Lord Tir has commented dismissively about the tint of strawberry in the blond; I wondered, had he meant it? Because it was only a glint of red. Admittedly my sister had had the pure blonde hair, and nearly as thick and long as mine. She'd once spoken -- shamelessly, as always -- of having it twisted into a rope, and forced across her mouth like a gag, with a man's fists holding it tight on either side of her head, trapping her to the carpet as he forced her legs apart with his own- I looked at the span of Lord Tir's shoulders again, and shivered inside. All that strength, pitted against the slight muscle and yielding will of a woman's body-

I shook my head. This was not the time to think of such things.

"Hold, slave," Lord Tir said in an unusual guttural voice. I froze instantly, and remembered what he had said about settling into a slutty stance. I blushed in shame that I should have to pose like that, and then blushed deeper, wondering what went through his mind when he saw me like this. He turned to me, tall and suddenly menacing, with starlight playing along his brow. I dropped my eyes instantly.

"Guard paying too much attention," he murmured. "Not sure why he's suspicious but I need to convince him you're what your outfit says. I'm going to touch you, mockingly and coldly. Do what you can to pretend to arousal, but without too much noise."

I whimpered softly, in manufactured fear, but it was an easy fear to manufacture.

"Slut and whore," he snapped. "Did you think no one would catch you? Touching yourself in that fashion? Eyes up, slut. Your master gave your punishment to me, and I'll make you feel his displeasure!"

I met his eyes, and he played his part well. His eyes blazed with lust and cruel dismissiveness, and I suddenly licked my lips in genuine fear.

"But first, humiliation. Drop the skirt to your ankles and touch your slutty c**t, here and now. Do it!"

Why oh why couldn't he have left the skirt on me? Then I could have faked the touch, and maybe I still could, in the dim light -- no, I didn't dare fail to play my part fully.

Shivering as the short skirt slid down my legs, it occurred to me that I would have to continue to meet his gaze as I touched. This time the whimper was real. I was suddenly and impossibly shy, I, who had shouted at kings.

My hand was trembling by the time it slid to my c**t. I stroked, gently, and to my horror my body responded instantly. It was learning to hunger for this sensation, learning quickly and well...

"Touch faster."

I whimpered again, and obeyed without thinking. He was powerful and pleasing him was important, he was going to save me from Prince Arj, I just needed to obey him, obey this powerful, commanding man with the dark eyes that made me shy and small...

"What are you?" He snapped.

It was becoming hard to think. I was supposed to be a slave, I'd been caught masturbating, I was...

"A slut," I whispered.

"I didn't hear that!"

"A slut," I gasped. I was burning.

He reached into one of the pockets and drew out a wooden handle, attached to a coiled line -- oh moon, it was a whip. Oh skies no! I was only pretending to be a slave, please do not let that cruel implement touch me!